Being back in Beijing for a few days this past week left me with a bittersweet feeling of nostalgia. This was the city I used to visit almost every other year, and the place I lived in for about a month when I was eight. I was young enough then, however, that what I remember is foggy and unclear—but returning to this beautiful, international city felt like I was wiping a film away from my old, dusty memories. As I was viewing the city almost ten years later, many of the sights I had already visited took on a new light.
When I was climbing the Great Wall, I reminisced about how I had delighted in running up and down the steps and hills with the boundless enthusiasm as a child. Now, significantly older and supposedly more fit, I was exhausted—but the gorgeous view and experience made it all worth it. As I was standing in one of the watchtowers, I also ruminated on how, as a child, I had no idea about the history behind the Great Wall. Even now, my knowledge of Chinese history is much too little, but I have begun to understand the extent of the people sacrificed in building this world wonder, the ingenious design behind the wall, the need for its protection and its utility, and what an astounding endeavor it was.
When I stood in front of the Temple of Heaven, I realized that it didn’t look exactly the same as I had remembered. In my mind, it was much bigger, much brighter—but my memories also didn’t hold the level and depth of detail, of precision, and of beauty that I was able to see again now in real life. I was overjoyed when we returned to the Echo Wall—something that had stuck in my head as magical and amazing for so many years—and it was just as intriguing as I had remembered. Walking through the park on the way to the Temple of Heaven, I was also struck by the amount of elderly people dancing, playing sports, doing morning exercises, and even singing together. Honestly speaking, I would love to grow old in China—the elderly seemed much livelier, much more energetic, and much happier than they do in America.
When I stood in the Bird’s Nest Stadium, I thought back to the once-in-a-lifetime chance I had gotten to watch an Olympic game in real life. Now, I can’t even remember what countries were playing (although I’m fairly certain the sport was handball), but I can still clearly recall the sense of awe and wonder I had when I was younger. Years later, the stadium somehow looked even bigger than I remembered. There were so many details I had forgotten, including the sports exhibits that visitors could interact with inside. While sitting in that massive stadium, however, I felt that it was truly a pity this stadium is no longer used very much. It’s truly an impressive work of architecture, and to have no purpose seems to be a waste of human ingenuity.
When I tasted authentic Beijing kaoya, I recalled the enormous, complete duck meal I had eaten for the first time in Beijing. They had served us literally everything that could possibly be eaten from a duck, from the heart to blood jelly to the kidneys. I will never forget that first authentic roast duck meal, because until that point, I had never truly appreciated how Chinese culture rejects wastefulness—and of course, how delicious roast duck was. Although we didn’t order a full set this time, the duck we ate just about melted in my mouth. Even in Zhuhai, I’m still thinking about that duck….
I’m incredibly grateful to have had this chance to reconnect with my childhood memories of Beijing and its culture, as well as to have visited new cities like Luoyang and Xi’an. China is undeniably a gorgeous, multifaceted country. These ancient cities we visited make a fascinating contrast with Zhuhai, which is a rapidly developing city of immigrants. Zhuhai is (according to my host dad) like a mini-America, but Beijing, Luoyang, and Xi’an are age-old testaments to thousands of years of history and culture.